


Shocks

by Macx



Series: Seismic [2]
Category: Tremors: The Series
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2011-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life continues as normal as it can in Perfection. Accidents happen with so many unknown creatures on the loose. Tyler Reed ends up in such an accident that traps him under his car with a new kind of animal stalking him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shocks

**Shocks**  
sequel to Earthquakes  
by Macx and Lara Bee

 

Love you.  
Just two little words. Two little, everything but harmless words for one Burt Gummer, survivalist in a little town called Perfection, right in the middle of the Nevada desert.  
Love you.  
Whispered into his ears by his lover in the wee hours of the morning after spending the night together, after being together. One wouldn't think that an occurrence like that would do this to a man, especially when hearing those words from a person one ... one... really admired.  
Right.  
Those two little words, not exactly meant for him to hear, had shaken Burt Gummer's world. Tyler had thought Burt was asleep when he had said them, so he probably wouldn't tell him face to face. Still - the fact remained that Tyler had said them in the first place, whispering into his ear while a hand was tenderly caressing his chest. Tyler had carefully disentangled himself from him and slipped into the bathroom, so Burt had been left alone for the shock to sink in.  
Love you.  
They were together.  
They were sleeping together.  
And it was great.  
And Tyler Reed loved him ...  
So where was his frigging problem?  
Tyler loved him.

* * *

Life continued. Tourists, hikers, scientists... the usual. Accidents and missing people, unnerving questions from the science nerds and Twitchell stalking around with self-importance. The road had finally been paved, even though the workmen had demanded an incredible amount of additional danger payment. Twitchell hadn't been happy, but compared to the other options -- a bumpy road that scared off the elderly and less adventurous, which meant less profit -- it was less expensive.  
And the relationship continued to develop. Passionately. It still amazed Burt how passionate. Be careful what you wish for, he mused. You might get it. Well, he had gotten it. He had lowered his guards, had let in Tyler, and he hadn't regretted it yet. And Tyler had told him what he felt; he loved him. So what was his problem? Why couldn't he...?  
"Burt? Jodi here. Do you copy?"  
Gummer reached for the walkie-talkie, a bad feeling blossoming inside of him. No one in town called him just to chat.  
"Burt here."  
"Burt, is Tyler with you?"  
Tyler? His lover was supposed to be on a tour.  
"Negative, Jodi. As far as I know he's on a tour."  
"No, he's not. The tour got cancelled at the last minute. His truck's not here and he's not answering the walkie-talkie so I thought he's with you."  
Survivalist instincts kicked in full force.  
No tour. Tyler had left Perfection. He hadn't come back. He hadn't arrived here. And he didn't answer his walkie-talkie.  
"No, he's not here. Thanks for the notification. I'll keep you posted."  
There was no need for the others to get alarmed or stumble around in the desert when night was falling. The Valley was dangerous in broad daylight, nobody could tell what happened out there in the dark. Burt grabbed his night vision equipment and walked briskly out of the bunker to look for his wayward lover.

* * *

They weren't large. Four-legged and hairless, with large, black eyes, fanged snouts, and the stubby-tailed backsides of a Shrieker. That terrified him the most. They yipped and growled, moving in a crouched, careful way, and some rubbed their heads together, giving off strange little chitters.  
Tyler Reed twisted his head, fingers curling around his gun.  
One of the strange creatures crept closer and he aimed the Magnum again, pulling the trigger.  
With a squeal, the thing collapsed and after a minute or two of hesitation, two came closer and closed their jaws around the body. It was dragged into the shadows and Tyler heard the sickening crunch of bones, slurping noise and something he really didn't want to think about too closely. It sounded like the wet sound of flesh tearing.  
He grimaced.  
Great.  
And then they were back. Sitting. Waiting. Like squatters, they took up place where they weren't wanted.  
Tyler tried to keep an eye on all of them as they kept out of the still working beams of his truck's headlights. He felt tired. Cold. Exhausted.  
He had lost the walkie-talkie. It was probably crushed somewhere under the truck. The gun had miraculously landed close enough for him to reach it, but he only had one ammo clip left. When he fired his last bullet, he would be defenseless.  
Great.  
"God, Burt, I hope you're out there somewhere and looking," he whispered.  
His fervent wish was only answered by renewed yipping chatter from the creatures.

* * *

Driving the same way Tyler usually took when coming out to his home proved to be ineffective. There was neither hide nor hair of Tyler or his truck. The walkie-talkie didn't respond so it was either switched off - completely unlike Reed - or broken. Gummer had first suspected maybe a flat tire or something else to do with the truck. Tyler could repair that, but in the middle of the night it took more time. Then had come the fear that El Blanco had something to do with it, but the Graboid was nowhere near his current position and hadn't been in the area all evening. Burt had checked his radio twice, just in case something or someone was meddling with the walkie-talkie frequencies -- it paid to be careful -- but everything was fine, too.  
After completing almost fifty percent of his search pattern without much success Burt switched on the GPS; Tyler had intended it for occasions like this. It had been an investment, but past experience had shown it was always good to know where a car was located. Just in case. Watching both the seismo monitor for any signs of Graboid activity and the GPS monitor Burt started to swear. Then he hit the gas.

* * *

It took him almost twenty minute to reach Tyler's location and he stopped the truck as he hit the end of the high road that lead to the rim of the valley and would swoop down to his place two miles further on. It was a detour and he wondered why Tyler had taken it. He forgot that question immediately; time for it later. There was movement in the beam of the headlights. Burt tensed, reaching for his weapon. It was a four legged animals with huge, reflective eyes and it shied away from the too bright light quickly. Gummer barely got a good glimpse of it. Coyote? Desert wolf?  
And then he saw what he had been looking for.  
The tour truck had been caught in a landslide which had swept it away from the road and down a ravine, obviously causing it to turn over several times... and the thing didn't have any roll bars!  It was lying top down now and it didn't look good. No mechanic in the world would be able to hammer it back into shape. There was no sight of Tyler, and his lover didn't answer his calls. Grabbing a huge Maglite Burt skidded down the hill as fast as he could without causing any more damage to the unstable ground. He kept an eye out for more movement in the dark, but there was nothing at all.  
A lump of fear was forming in his throat as he reached the wrecked car, running the bright ray of the torch over the inside of the vehicle.  
There!  
"Tyler!"  
Obviously Reed hadn't been buckled in when the ground had given way, but the fast, unpredictable slide of the car hadn't thrown him out either. When the truck had finally come to an abrupt halt it had landed on the man, pinning down the lower body.  
"Tyler! C'mon, talk to me. Are you okay?"  
Tyler's eyelids fluttered and he turned his head slowly into his direction. His face was pale - much too pale for Burt's liking - and there was a small trickle of blood on his temple. He was covered in dust, his hair a mess from the blood and sand, and his jeans jacket was ripped in places. Broken fingernails showed that Reed had tried to free himself.  
But at least he was awake.  
"Tyler?" he asked again.  
"Burt? That you?"  
Tyler sounded weak, tired, but he was alert. Thank goodness! One hand flailed slightly and Gummer caught it with his gloved one. He squeezed it reassuringly.  
"Yeah, it's me, buddy. Tell me how you feel."  
"Like shit."  
Burt smiled grimly. "I bet. Head hurt? Legs?"  
"Ow... yes to both. At least my right leg used to hurt like hell, seems it turned numb."  
Gummer's lips turned into a tight line and he squeezed the hand again. Not good. Not good at all. The weight of the car was inhibiting the blood flow. He had to move fast. There was no time to lose.  
"Hold on, I'll get you out of here. I'll call for a SAR helicopter."  
"'copter?"  
"Don't argue."  
"'kay. Jus' get me outta here."  
Tyler's speech was a little slurred now, telling about exhaustion and maybe a concussion.  
"On my way. Keep talking, will ya?"  
He let go of the hand, which drew an alarmed moan from his lover. Burt leaned over him, smiling as reassuringly as he could.  
"I'll be right back. Just have to get the car turned around to use the winch, okay?"  
"Sure," came the soft whisper, then Tyler's eyes slid shut.  
He patted one cheek until the blurry grays opened once more. "Stay with me."  
Burt went up the ravine and turned the truck around, contacting Search and Rescue as he did so and requesting back-up. He was promised immediate help. Soon he slid down the ravine again, fastening a rope to the wreck.  
"Burt, you see the jackals?" Tyler asked, blinking into the light.  
The flash of movement as he had arrived, the noiseless shadow that had been too fast for him to get a good look.  
"I saw something, but I don't think they were jackals. Looked more like a wolf, though that species doesn't live here."  
"It's Perfection, Burt," Tyler gasped painfully, his eyes screwing shut for a second.  
"Point taken."  
"They had no fur and Shrieker tails. And they were eating their dead. Managed to shoot some of 'em."  
"Good job," Gummer lauded him, wondering if it was the concussion talking or something else.  
Yes, there had been something, but even in Perfection, 'normal' wildlife managed to survive. He really hoped it was the concussion because the last thing he now needed was Shrieker trouble. Then again, Shriekers didn't lurk in the shadows and wait. They would simply attack and eat.  
"I'm ready to start the winch, Tyler," he called. "Do you think you can free yourself once the truck is off you?"  
"Dunno. 'I'll try," came the shaky answer.  
"Okay. Here we go."  
Burt switched on the winch, watching the wreck resist, then move hesitantly inch by inch.  
There was an ear-drum shattering scream that seemed to echo in the darkness, carrying nothing but sheer agony.  
Stopping the machine and skidding back to his lover's side was a matter of seconds.  
"Tyler? Tyler, what's wrong?" Burt almost yelled, the fear he had been feeling before and that had subsided a little now returning with a fiery vengeance.  
There was no answer. Tyler lay totally limp underneath the partially raised car. Stripping the gloves off shaky fingers, Burt checked for a pulse and found it. Thready, weak, but it was there. Shining the Maglite under the car, he suddenly noticed a moist glint in the bright beam that he hadn't been able to see before. Taking a closer look made the fear turn into horror.  
"Damn," he whispered hoarsely.  
A piece of metal debris had stabbed Tyler's right thigh, spearing him and holding him down effectively. When Burt had tried to move the car he had moved the 'spear' as well, pulling it out until the agonized scream had Gummer stop the winch. About two inches had been moved and they dripped with blood. Burt had possibly caused more damage than doing any good, and the pain had made Tyler scream in sheer agony, sending him into the merciful arms of oblivion.  
But he was losing blood more rapidly now, the pallor of his face speaking of the need to get him into medical care quickly. The already dried pool of blood that had escaped the first time the piece of metal had punched through the vulnerable flesh was bad enough already.  
His lover was still trapped and he couldn't reach the injury to bind the leg.  
Burt cursed softly and mentally went through his equipment. He might just be able to cut the spear in half with the tools he had, but he might just make it worse. A lot worse. He might kill his lover instead of helping him. Gummer chewed on his lower lip, then made the hard decision to do nothing. He would wait for the rescue team to arrive.  
Burt settled down at his lover's side, stroking the pale skin gently, his gun ready just in case.  
"Rescue is on the way, Tyler," he whispered. "They'll get you out. Just hold on."  
He felt incredibly helpless.

* * *

In the end it took another twenty minutes for the helicopter to arrive and the team of two paramedics quickly assessed the damage done to Reed, swapping medical terms and starting their operation on the truck. Burt stood aside, sharp eyes on every move, trying to remain calm in the face of the agony his lover was going through as the spear was cut in half and he was dragged out from under the wreck that still hung on the metal rope of Burt's truck.  
Reed had come to the moment one of the paramedics had inserted the needle to start a Ringer infusion, and he was barely coherent. Confused gray eyes, tearing with pain, the face white as a sheet and in stark contrast to the jeans leg soaked in blood. Burt swallowed hard, fighting his instinct to go and touch his lover, calm him down. But he would only be in the way as the two professionals handled the younger man. Tyler's leg was placed into an air-filled cast to keep it stable and pressurized, then he was put into a basket stretcher and airlifted. The paramedics followed and all Burt got was the hospital they were taking him to.  
He lost no time.  
After lowering the truck wreck, he disengaged the winch and was on the way.

* * *

The hospital waiting room was exactly three by two point seven six meters in diameter. Burt knew this. He had paced through it for the better part of this night now, waiting for news of the condition of his lover. The helicopter had brought Tyler here just in time, and now he was in surgery to repair the damage that had been done to his leg. A nurse had ambushed him, demanding information on their patient, and he had simply given her Jodi's number. Each resident of Perfection had a complete medical data file, right down to allergies, blood group and past surgery of any kind. It was mandatory. Even visiting scientists had to answer the questions. Jodi had all the data on her computer, right down to the next of kin and contact addresses.  
In turn he had received some news, but they were unsatisfactory.  
Was it bad? Hell, he didn't needed no frigging doc to tell him that.  
Would Tyler be able to use his leg again? That was a question Burt didn't really want to think of now.  
Would he even survive?  
Burt inhaled. He had to admit the chances of losing somebody out here were rather high when living in the habitat of a Graboid. He hadn't given it a second thought, ever. Better not think about something like this. Then there were the Assblasters, Shriekers and all the other kinds of weird, dangerous and virtually unimaginable life forms that were a result of scientists gone mad, but he had gotten used to that, too.  
Now he could lose Tyler.  
Gummer stopped and suddenly sank onto a plastic chair. His eyes were drawn to the dried flecks of blood on his clothes.  
Tyler's blood.  
His lover's blood.  
He might lose him.  
Because of a freaking accident, for crying out loud.  
Burt erupted from the chair and started pacing again.  
He desperately needed a beer.  
And to tell Tyler Reed that he loved him.

* * *

Tyler was a pale shadow of his former self. Blood infusions and an IV line ran into his bruised arms and the cut at his temple had turned into a colorful bump. His eyes were closed, looked equally bruised, and his cheeks appeared hollow. Someone had cleaned him up, shaved him, combed his hair, and it made him look so much younger. Less the outdoors adventure tour guide. Burt had to smile as he silently approached the bed. He reached for one lax hand and felt the cool skin under his touch. He entwined their fingers, stroking a thumb over the back of the hand he held.  
The surgeon had given him and the others a good run-down. Bumps, scrapes, bruises, a concussion, the cut at the temple, and blood loss. And the serious stab wound to the leg. The spear had gone all the way through, miraculously missing the bone, but Tyler now had quite a hole in his leg and it would need time and physical therapy to heal the damage completely. Additionally to that, he had broken his ankle, but luckily it wasn't an open fracture and rather straight-forward. It meant a cast and crutches for a while, but Burt was thankful for little things.  
Like Tyler's survival.  
Blurry gray eyes cracked open and he leaned forward, smiling gently as the confused gaze settled on him. Tyler had been in Recovery for a while until he had woken from the artificial sleep of the anesthesia, and the doctors had decided not to put him into intensive care since he was doing so well. Now, he woke for a second time, this time with Burt there.  
"Hey," Gummer said gently, squeezing the hand he still held.  
"Burt," Tyler croaked.  
"The one and only."  
"Where...?"  
"Hospital. Bixby."  
"Oh." He blinked. He licked his lips. "Why?"  
"You had an accident."  
"Oh."  
The eyes slid shut again and Burt smiled softly. "Sleep," he whispered and pressed his lips against the pale ones of his lover. Then he sat down on the visitor's chair and waited.

* * *

The whole town, which came down to currently only the three women, had come to Bixby to see for themselves that Tyler Reed would be okay. They had spent time with Burt, worrying in the waiting room, and they had detoured Twitchell whenever the bureaucrat was close to sending Gummer into one of his tempers. Twitchell had no idea of the relationship between the two men, unlike the women who were running distractions.  
When they were finally given the news and Burt went to see Tyler, Jodi nodded at Nancy and Rosalita that she would handle Twitchell for now.  
So the two women made their way to Tyler's room to see for themselves that he was okay, but when Nancy opened the door a crack to check if they were welcome, she was treated to sight she would never forget.  
Burt Gummer gently kissing a sleeping Tyler Reed. For a moment, she froze, taking in the tenderness of the gesture, the love hidden in that little contact, and she smiled. Then she straightened and stepped away from the door, bumping into Rosalita.  
"Hey! What's wrong."  
"Just give him another moment," Nancy answered with a knowing smile.  
Rosalita opened her mouth to say something, then realization hit her and she smiled. "You mean...?"  
"Tender moment." Nancy counted to ten, then pushed the door open completely.  
Burt sat on the visitor's chair, looking tired but a lot better than all the hours in the waiting room, and the deep lines had eased somewhat.  
"Hey, Burt. How is he?"  
"Sleeping. He was awake for a moment and a bit confused. I'll be staying here for a while," he told them matter-of-factly.  
"Okay." Nancy had suspected that much. "You want us to get you something? Clothes?"  
Gummer looked at his dirty clothes and grimaced briefly. "Yes, thank you."  
"No problem. Listen, Jodi's still keeping Twitchell away, so we'll spell her for a moment. She wants to see Tyler, too."  
Burt gave them a tired smile and nodded. Whatever, Nancy interpreted the look.  
She and Rosalita left after the other woman had rubbed Tyler's hand, talking softly to him.

* * *

"What where you thinking? Driving out to my place in the middle of the night! Using the high road!"  
Tyler blinked at him. He lay propped up in the hospital bed, still looking rather pale, but he was more coherent now.  
"The tour got cancelled. I just wanted to drop by."  
And talk, he thought. About us. You and me. My feelings. Tyler Reed, outdoor adventure type, talking about his feelings. Riiight!  
"And you took the high road?"  
"I thought I had seen something," he muttered. "I followed it."  
"You thought? You thought you had seen something?" Burt echoed, anger in his voice. "And you went after it? In the middle of the night? In Perfection? Tyler, think!"  
"Well, I did!" Reed shot back.  
"So you drove up the high road and got caught in a landslide?"  
"Not because I had wanted to!"  
"Well, but you did! Because you were careless! First rule of survival, Tyler! Know your terrain! And knowing your terrain, you don't head out after something you thought you saw in the middle of the night!"  
"Burt..." Tyler said tiredly.  
"You were stupid!"  
"Burt."  
"Recklessly stupid!"  
"Burt," Tyler sighed, raising his voice.  
"You aggravating, idiotic, recklessly stupid man!"  
And then Burt's lips were on his, shutting him up effectively. Large hands framed his face as he answered the almost desperate contact as best as his condition allowed him to.  
"Whoa," Tyler whispered feebly.  
Gummer stepped back, breathing hard, eyes flashing with unspoken emotions.  
Reed licked his lips. "Point taken."  
"I hope so," the older man growled.  
"So... when do I get out?" Reed changed the subject.  
His lover stood for a second longer, then settled down on the chair. "When the doctors say you are ready."  
Reed groaned. "I'm fine. I can go home. I hate hospitals."  
"Sure you are."  
Tyler sighed and closed his eyes. "While I'm here... there's still something we haven't talked about yet."  
Gummer looked quizzically at him.  
"The creatures I saw."  
A frown replaced the quizzical. "I didn't see anything while I was with you."  
Tyler shook his head. "Then they ran away. I know what I saw and shot at, Burt. And I hit some of those things! They ate them!"  
"You were suffering from a concussion," Burt reminded him. "It could have been a hallucination."  
"Then it was the longest damned hallucination I ever heard of. Dolby Surround and Technicolor! Burt, believe me, they were there!"  
Gummer leaned forward, the frown still present. "I've lived in that Valley for a lot longer than you, Tyler. If there was anything but a Graboid, Shriekers or Assblasters, I'd know."  
"Well, what about 4-12? That thing was new. Or the weird reptilian plant? You didn't know about it either. And the cicada? Why can't you believe that there's something new yet again? You're the one who usually goes out at the slightest hiccup from El Blanco to see what's wrong."  
Bull's eye. Gummer frowned thoughtfully.  
"Point taken."  
"So you'll check it out?"  
The older man smiled. "I'll drive out and see what I can find."  
"Now," Reed insisted.  
"Tomorrow."  
Tyler gaped. Tomorrow? Burt Gummer, paranoid extraordinaire, wanted to wait before driving somewhere he might possibly find a new species of monster?  
"Uh, Burt, you sure you're okay? I mean… you're not leaving ASAP?"  
Burt twitched a smile. "I'm perfectly fine."  
"Oh. Okay… Tomorrow then. Good. Now let me get some sleep so I can be out of here soon."  
Burt smiled slightly. "We'll see about that."  
Tyler grinned, then used the remote to lower the head part of the hospital bed back down. His leg was still elevated and it was uncomfortable, but at least he was mostly free of pain.  
Burt remained where he was, looking like was ready to spend the rest of the day here in this room on this chair.  
"Uh, Burt?"  
Gummer shot him a hard look. "Sleep," he ordered.  
Don't argue, Tyler thought. Listen to the man, though right now Burt Gummer was acting a little bit weirder than normal. He was voluntarily staying in the hospital with him instead of tearing back to Perfection Valley to hunt for the mysterious animals? His medicated mind puzzled over it for a few minutes longer, then he finally fell back into a drugged sleep.  
He dreamed of mutated Shriekers.

* * *

Burt stood at the accident site, looking at the twisted heap of metal that had been the tour truck once. He walked around the wreckage and noticed the scuff marks everywhere. Some were from him, some from the paramedics. And there was no sign of blood. It was as if Tyler had never nearly bled to death out here. No dried patches of fluids. Nothing. It was gone.  
Burt frowned and sifted through the sand. No blood.  
Suspicion set in and his body tensed, expecting any kind of attack at any moment. Something had been here, the night of the accident and later on as well. He himself had only seen a blurry shadow, but Tyler had been able to get a good look. Something new had come to Perfection. He didn't like it one little bit.  
Widening his search area, Burt carefully went over every inch of desert. There were wildlife tracks, but no carcasses. No bones.  
Suddenly he stopped and crouched down, picking up a long, thin piece of blood-speckled bone from the ground with gloved fingers. Studying the fragment, he finally bagged it, then he continued his search. He found nothing else.  
Burt pushed back his baseball cap and looked out over the desert.  
"What are you?" he murmured. "And where are you hiding?"

* * *

It took a week until Reed was allowed to leave the hospital and Burt didn't leave his side. It was a new aspect to the man, who normally couldn't be dragged from his bunker for longer than a few days. A week, in Bixby, was a new phenomenon. One Tyler enjoyed; at least he did whenever he was awake and coherent enough.  
What stayed on his mind though, were the strange creatures that had been lingering around the wreck. The things that had looked like a Shrieker with some canine thrown in. The things that had eaten their dead. The things that had waited.... for him to die?  
It made no sense.  
So far, all the new and strange creations of Mixmaster had been highly aggressive, with a voracious appetite and they had been predators. These new things Tyler had never even heard of before, or seen until that night, and they hadn't attacked. Just waited.  
Burt had found only little debris out there. He had collected what could be a bone fragment and had handed it over to Dr. Matthews for further analysis. They would have to wait and see.

Armed with his crutches, his ankle in a brightly green cast, Tyler hobbled out of the building and into the sun, smiling as he discovered the large truck. His ticket out of here. Burt, in his usual get-up, helped him into the vehicle, making sure he was comfortable in the back where he had made room so Tyler could sit and put up his leg. Then he started the engine.  
"Okay back there?" he asked.  
"Yeah. Let's go home. I'm sick of the big city."  
Burt smiled and pulled out of the parking lot.

*

By the time they were in Perfection Valley, Tyler's head ached, his thigh wound throbbed with every heartbeat and he felt motion sick. He had never been motion sick. Closing his eyes, resting his head against the seat, he swallowed several times. A hand touching him startled Reed and his eyes snapped open. They were in Perfection, outside the garage.  
Burt looked at him over his sunglasses, dark eyes worried.  
"Tyler?"  
"I'm fine."  
"Sure."  
Tyler let his head sink back again. "I'm dizzy," he murmured finally. "Leg hurts."  
"I'll get you inside," Burt told him. "You have prescriptions for the pain. You have to take them."  
"'Kay."  
Tyler had not much fight left in him to tell his lover that he was very well able to go to bed and take his own medication. He was just too sick.  
Burt helped him out of the car, into bed, and gave him a glass of water to swallow the pain-medication. Tyler sank back onto his pillow, closing his eyes. His headache was worse than anything he had ever experienced in the past and he blamed the concussion for it. His leg... well, it would probably hurt less if he cut it off.  
A callused hand gently stroked over his forehead and cheek and he turned into the touch, cracking his eyes open.  
"I'm going over to my place, get a change of clothes," Burt told him. "And check the geophone data."  
"Sure. Don't worry. Not going anywhere," Reed whispered.  
"I hope not."  
Gummer pulled the covers over the patient, then straightened and left. Tyler wasn't awake much longer. He dropped off into a deep sleep.

* * *

"I analyzed the fragments you got me, Burt. They were quite interesting." Casey Matthews walked over to her computer and pointed at the screen. "It's Mixmaster, no doubt about it."  
Burt grimaced. Great. Another one.  
"Tyler described them as wolf-sized, hairless canines with a tail like a Shrieker, long snouts and fangs, which indicate carnivore; huge ears and eyes indicating night activity, and long claws indicating digger. They're dangerous, but not aggressive predators that attack their prey. From what Tyler said, they were waiting for him to die. He shot some of them and the remaining pack members immediately started to feed on their dead without leaving so much as a drop of blood behind. It was pure luck that this bone fragment was overlooked. They eat everything including the bones and Tyler remembers them sucking in the blood soiled dirt with a Graboid-like tongue. It is very clear that these things are the most effective carrion-eaters I've ever heard of."  
She gestured at the screen again.  
"Their genetical make-up confirms visual observations. We have Dipodomys microdipodops –  Kangaroo Rat; Canis latrans – Coyote; and to make it much more fun, I also found some Shrieker DNA. Our very well known Caederus Mexicana."  
Burt's unhappy frown deepened, but he didn't comment.  
"They're carrion eaters, Burt, a creation of Mixmaster, and I bet they haven't just come out of hiding in the last few weeks or months. If I have to make a guess, they've been existing in the Valley for the last twenty years. The bone cells are old, close to five or six years, and Tyler said they were a pack. A family group. If they are a pack they might very well have a real social structure. Fascinating!"  
"Wonderful."  
"Somehow I don't think they're a danger to the people or the life stock. They don't hunt and kill. Maybe they clean up what El Blanco and other predators leave behind, including every bit of bone and blood, even the dirt." Casey shrugged. "Remember the dead cows Twitchell saw just before he was nearly killed by those cicada? Jodi told me all about your little adventure," she added with a grin at his inquisitive look. "Well, the skeletons were never found. The clean-up team reported an empty pasture. Not a drop of blood. Within one night, they disappeared. It could have been them. They are a kind of clean-up crew for this valley."  
"They were after Tyler!"  
"They were waiting for their food to die. They didn't attack him. They don't kill, they just eat what's dead."  
Gummer snorted, clearly not liking it.  
"I'll keep an eye out for them."  
"You do that. If you ever catch one, I'd love to get a look at it," Matthews answered, smiling.  
"Will do." With that, Gummer left the lab and drove back into Perfection.  
A new life form in Perfection Valley, one no one had ever seen before but which had apparently been here as long as the Graboids. Hiding somewhere. Burt was determined to find them.

* * *

In the days that followed, Burt moved more or less into the garage to be there for his handicapped lover, and Tyler was slowly but surely getting better at telling the days apart. In the beginning he slept a lot, woke only when Burt forced him to eat or drink, and to help him to the bathroom. Of course he could use his crutches, but he was too shaky still. That particular problem got better soon and it meant more mobility.  
And more arguments.  
Where he had only infrequently complained about being stuck flat on his back to Burt, about the cruelty of the world, he now had a whole new range of grievances. First there had been the medical bill. Hospitals were expensive and no insurance in their right mind would give any of the residents of Perfection medical cover. They had managed to make a small deal though: a basic cover for non-monster induced injuries, which was sometimes hard to prove. Did falling off a roof because El Blanco had attacked the building count as 'monster induced'? So after calming Tyler down, Burt had matter-of-factly explained to him that the medical bill would be covered, even the private room, and that had effectively shut the younger man up.  
Until he ventured outside for the first time.  
"My truck!"  
Standing in front of the garage, Reed stared at the wreck that had been his beloved truck.  
"Crashing it down a ravine didn't agree with it," Burt remarked.  
"That truck is my life!" Tyler cried, hobbling over to the wreck. "What am I supposed to do now? I can't run my tour on foot!"  
"First you have to get on your feet again," was the calm reply.  
"I'm on my feet, Burt!" Reed argued, waving one crutch. "I have to repair it," he mumbled. "I mean, it's not too bad, right? One busted tire, some metal work, and it'll be as good as new, right?"  
There was a silent desperation in his voice and wide eyes begged Burt to agree with him.  
"It's a lost cause, Tyler," Gummer just sighed, pushing back his cap.  
"No, you're wrong!" came the heated reply. "I can do it!"  
And with that, Tyler limped off.  
Burt just watched him go, a slight frown on his forehead and an undefined expression in his eyes.

* * *

Burt Gummer didn't believe his eyes when he came back from the bunker.  
"The little..." he growled and slammed the truck's door shut, stalking over to where Tyler was leaning into the busted engine compartment of his tour vehicle.  
The car sat where Gummer had left it after towing the wreck into town -- just to have the debris out of the desert. Somehow, Tyler had managed to pop the mangled hood open and he had partially disappeared inside the depths. At his side stood a toolbox and his crutches were leaning against the battered truck.  
"Tyler!" He reined in his temper, but it was hard.  
Reed looked up, his face smudged with oil. "Oh, hey Burt."  
"What are you doing?"  
"Repairing the car."  
"Your truck is a total loss! And you're not supposed to be up and putting weight on that leg!"  
Tyler's face clouded. "I'm no invalid!"  
Burt inhaled deeply, fighting the more violent response of dragging his lover back inside and chaining him to the bed.  
"You were seriously injured just over two weeks ago!" he reminded him. "You lost blood, you broke your ankle, you have a goddamn hole in your right leg!"  
"But my hands and eyes are just fine! Unlike you, I can't just sit back and wait till someone walks up to me and asks my opinion about desert survival, Burt!" Tyler snapped back. "I need to get the tour running again! Two weeks of no paying customers, Burt. Two weeks! I'm self-employed and my business stands and falls with this truck!"  
"Not with this truck!" Gummer argued. "It's a wreck!"  
Gray eyes narrowed with anger and a trace of betrayal. "Well, as long as you can't present me with an alternative, I still have to get it back up and running!"  
Tyler turned back to the engine, then stopped and snarled something uncomplimentary. He threw the screwdriver back into the toolbox, grabbed the crutches, and hobbled off. Not into the garage. No, toward the store.  
"Tyler!" Burt hollered. "You come back here immediately!"  
"You don't run my life, Burt!" Reed yelled back. "I don't need your nursemaiding, and I sure as hell don't need your criticism. Why don't you go back to your hole in the ground and your cactus and your... your easy, uncomplicated life away from the harsh reality of capitalism where we normal people live in!"  
Gummer stood rooted to the spot, mouth open, eyes widening, watching his lover make his slow and probably very painful way over to the store. He turned to look at the tour truck. Tyler's livelihood. Pushing his sunglasses up his nose, he went to his own truck and drove off.

*

The truck bounced over the unpaved road, but Burt didn't feel it. His hands clenched around the steering wheel, his face a grim mask of anger, frustration and hurt. Tyler's words had hurt him. He would never have thought that anyone could ever get that close emotionally to deliver such blows, but Tyler Reed had. The one person he had let in, had opened up to, had made himself vulnerable to. Ever since Heather he hadn't been foolish enough to... to... get this close.  
Burt hit the brakes and the truck skidded to a halt. Dust clouds rose around him, but he didn't notice. He was staring through the grimy windshield, seeing nothing.  
He had loved Heather. She had been a kindred soul, but in the end, she hadn't been the one. They had loved and fought with each other, but she hadn't been able to live with his paranoia in the end.  
For years, there had been no one, not even a moderate interest, and then Reed had shown up in Perfection, had breached his first defenses within a few days, and Gummer had let him. They had become friends, then partners, Burt had started to trust him, and finally, they had become lovers. Tyler had come closer than anyone here; he had become physically close. Sexually close.  
And he... he... Okay, 'fess up, Gummer! You love the annoying little... He hung his head and exhaled sharply. You love Tyler. You love him.  
Damn.  
When had that happened?  
And did he really need an ETA for those feelings? They were there, he had to deal with them, and he had to get a grip on his own reactions.  
Now!  
Burt calmed himself, put the anger aside, as well as the hurt feelings. He knew where Tyler was coming from -- depression, frustration and anger at the world in general and himself in particular. He could handle it. He would.  
Gummer restarted the engine and turned the truck around, heading back to Perfection to have a word with his lover.

*

Nancy had watched the friction between the two men grow with each and every day Tyler was forced to suffer the inactivity. He couldn't walk long distances because of the pain and the cast. He had no way to bring in money, which meant he was living off his savings, and those were dwindling. The tour was on hold and no one knew if it would ever get running again. At least not with that truck.  
The others were well aware of the rising emotional tide. Jodi didn't write Tyler any bills and if he forgot to ask for one, she conveniently didn't mention the price for the food and drink at the store. Nancy and Rosalita had put together some of their money to help cover the expenses. But Burt was the real hero of these stressful times. He was suffering the verbal abuse, the moods and the complaints with a stoicism that impressed Nancy. Of course they all knew why Tyler was moody, but it was one thing to know and the other not to rise to the temperamental outbreaks. Burt never lost his cool. Never.  
He loves him, she decided. He might not really show it in public, but Burt Gummer loved the other man.  
Now she watched Tyler enter the store after the angry exchange that had carried over to the store. Not the actual words, but the emotions. Reed's face was drawn and pale, marked by pain, and he lifted his leg onto a chair to ease the strain. Jodi brought him a Grabuccino, then shot Nancy a look.  
She just nodded. She would see what she could do.  
Walking over to the back table, the artist smiled at Tyler as she settled in the third chair. "Hey."  
He gave her a tired smile. "Hey."  
"I won't ask how you are, Tyler," she said, voice calm and slightly motherly. "You look bad."  
"Just a little twitch."  
"It's more than that. You should follow the doctor's orders and rest more. You want to get back full use of your leg, right?"  
Tyler sighed. "Yeah, sure. Thanks for the advice."  
"But you won't take it."  
He grimaced, face still rather gray.  
Nancy patted his hand. "That's okay. Advice is there to take or not. It's just an idea. It might help long-term."  
The younger man closed his eyes, radiating exhaustion. "I can't just sit back and do nothing, Nancy. I need that truck."  
"And you know that there's no chance it'll ever run again, Tyler. I'm no mechanic and I know."  
The expressive gray eyes opened and she saw undisguised desperation there. "What can I do?" he wanted to know. "It's all I got. I can't buy a new truck, Nancy! I don't have the cash!"  
"You'll find a way."  
"How? I need a truck to make cash, but I need cash first to get a new truck!"  
She wrapped her hand around the cold fingers. Tyler was exhausted, he needed rest and his medication, and he needed Burt.  
"It won't get better if you fall flat on your face. And it won't get better if you drive away the one person who needs you, too."  
He blinked at her. "What?"  
"Tyler, think. You've been home for a while now. Who's been taking care of matters for you? Who's given up his surveillance systems, his underground bunker, his personal safety net and protection against the world outside for you? Who's been staying with you? Day in and day out. Who brought you meals and helped you exercise that leg? And who have you been abusing ever since that thick-headed temper got lose?"  
Tyler opened his mouth, a fire flaring his eyes that had been dead for a while now. Then he snapped his mouth shut, settling back. "Burt," he whispered softly.  
"Tyler, that man has suffered with you and he has suffered you. He took whatever you threw at him, and he came back for more. Don't you think it's time you looked past your fears for a while and did what your body needs? Sleep, rest, get better, heal."  
Reed let his head sink into his hands, hiding his face. "I'm an asshole," he whispered.  
"No, just a pig-headed man." Nancy smiled and brushed over the dark head. "You can't win if you destroy yourself while fighting windmills. The truck is a loss and you need to accept it. Whatever else happens in the future, it needs you healthy and whole."  
He looked up, eyes bright with exhaustion.  
"C'mon," Nancy said softly and put a hand under one arm. "Let's get you over to your place and into bed. You need your beauty sleep. A lot of it."  
Reed didn't protest -- much. She threw Jodi a smile and got a grateful look in return, then they were on their way.  
Somehow, Nancy wasn't surprised to see Burt's truck pull in as she left the garage after she had settled Tyler. Whatever had been going on in the other man, it must have evaporated a few miles out of town.  
"He's in bed," she told Gummer before he could ask. "Resting. Talk to him, Burt. He really needs you."  
It got her a strange look, but Burt walked into the garage, closing the door.  
Mission accomplished, Nancy thought and went back into the store.

*

Burt looked down at the younger man lying in the bed, dressed in his sweatpants and a shirt. It had been nothing but sweatpants for Tyler because of the cast and it had been one of many complaint. Silly little complaints. The food, the inactivity, the dependency, the pain, the work-outs, the weekly visits to the doctor. All born from frustration as well as depression. He understood that, which was why he had taken the abuse.  
Tyler opened his eyes to the sound of Burt's booted feet on the floor, and he looked blearily at him.  
"I'm an asshole," he murmured.  
Burt raised his eyebrows. Actually, no argument there.  
"An idiot, too."  
Well, yes.  
"And I don't deserve you."  
Okay, cut in here, Gummer decided, sinking down onto the mattress. Tyler was getting slightly melodramatic. He touched the still too pale cheek, noticing how Tyler automatically leaned into the contact.  
"You're frustrated."  
"So I'm a frustrated asshole. And idiot." Reed sighed. "I'm sorry. For everything." He threw Burt a pleading look. "I didn't mean it."  
"Which of the many things?" Gummer asked, voice gentler than the question sounded.  
"All. You were right."  
Ah.  
"I was wrong."  
Getting there.  
"And I feel like hell."  
"Did you take your medication?"  
"Yeah."  
"Then the best idea would be to get some rest."  
Tyler moved slightly, rolling closer as much as the cast allowed him to. Seeking comfort. "Don't got back?"  
"Back where?"  
"Your place."  
"You mean the hole in the ground? With the cactus?"  
Reed winced and screwed his eyes shut. "Sorry," he whispered.  
Burt stroked the longish hair back from the haggard looking face. "You didn't mean it."  
"No. I didn't. I'd never..."  
"But you did."  
Tyler still hadn't opened his eyes and now he was actually moving away from Burt. The older man swiftly undid his boots and scooted into the bed, collecting his lover against him. There was no fight left in the sick man.  
"You did it in a fit of anger and frustration," he continued. "I understand that. You're a self-reliant man, Tyler Reed. Now you depend on someone else. I understand that, too. I doubt I would be any better. Actually I think I might be worse."  
Gray eyes cracked open and Burt smiled at the confusion.  
"I'm staying. You won't get rid of me that easily. And you will get better because you'll follow my orders."  
"I will?"  
"Yes, you will."  
"Okay," came the muffled reply.  
"Now sleep."  
"Okay."  
Burt watched his lover drop off, never stopping his caress of the brown head.  
Life sure had turned complicated, he mused.

* * *

The cast came off after five weeks, but it still meant not much more mobility than before for Tyler Reed. He was dependent on one crutch and there was nothing much to do for him but help out wherever he didn't have to walk, climb or kneel. It was frustrating, but he was trying to deal with it. It was just after they came back from Bixby that Burt announced that he would be gone for two days. He didn't tell Tyler what he was up to, only that he had something to do somewhere. Reed suspected it was another survival class and he was glad his lover would be getting out and about among people who kind of thought and lived like him. Burt had had little luck with finding any trace of the mysterious pack of creatures. He had started to call them Sweepers and the term was quickly adopted. Nancy was modeling one of them with Tyler's help and while they had little proof except for a sketchy description from a concussed man and a bone fragment, Jodi believed the figure would sell.  
Two days later, Burt Gummer was back. And he was towing a truck. It was the same model as Tyler's, painted in a sickly grayish green, and two tires were busted. Burt had affixed a small rig to his truck and parked the front carriage of the new truck on it, enabling him to pull the vehicle without further assistance.  
Tyler stood in front the garage, resting his weight on the one remaining crutch, gaping as Burt unloaded the truck.  
"What...? Burt, what's that?"  
Eyebrows rose. "I thought it was obvious."  
"It's a truck!"  
"Give the man a cigar."  
"Burt! Where did you get a truck?"  
"Vegas."  
Okay, he was no longer gaping, he was staring like a dimwit. "Vegas?" There was an echo somewhere and it sounded like him. "What were you doing in Vegas?"  
"Buying the truck."  
Gummer got into the vehicle, started the engine, reversed off the rig, then immediately parked it.  
"Burt, neither you nor I have the money for it!" Tyler argued.  
Shaded eyes briefly looked at him, but there was no answer forthcoming.  
"Burt! How did you pay for this? It must have at least cost five thousand!"  
"I made a good deal." Gummer walked around the car and inspected it, nodding to himself. "I think you can fix the tires and use the seats from the old one. They're still intact. I was told this engine is state-of-the-art."  
Tyler shook his head. "I can't believe it."  
"I got the papers to prove it."  
"I don't mean the truck. Well, I do. Burt, how come you drove all the way to Vegas to buy a truck? For me!"  
Burt leaned against the future tour truck and shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea. Now, I need something to drink. You?"  
"Uh," Reed stammered. "I... later."  
"Okay." He pushed away from the truck and walked over to Jodi's.  
Tyler remained behind, circling his new 'baby' and his mind was already going through a list of what to do.

* * *

Burt had driven out to the lab to talk to Casey Matthews again about the Sweepers and Tyler had insisted on coming along. He was the only eye witness and he wanted to get out of Perfection for a few hours.  
"I tried everything," Burt growled, leaning against a support beam, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Bait, night surveillance, stake-outs, but there's not a single trace of these Sweepers."  
Casey pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about these new creatures for a long time and from what you found, or lack thereof, I believe they're not only night-active, but also live underground."  
"With El Blanco?" Tyler asked. "No way. They'd be worm food."  
"Apparently not. They exist in symbiosis with predators, for instance El Blanco."  
"Okay... so... why can't Burt find any trace of them? They ate their own dead, so why not go for a carcass so readily presented?"  
She nodded. "I think they're associating your smell with death."  
"My smell?" Gummer echoed incredulously.  
"Yes. Just think about it, Burt. Tyler shot some of them and they kept out of the gun's range. They learned that he was dangerous and could kill them. Then you came. You didn't actually see any of them, but I think they hung around nevertheless, waiting for further developments. They smelled you, too. And..." She smiled slightly. "Well, you smell of Tyler."  
Burt opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut and pulled his cap on tighter, evading the amused eyes.  
Tyler just leaned back, leg on a second chair, not commenting.  
"So," he said after a few seconds of silence. "They smell us and think death?"  
"Yes, exactly. It means they're learning. They adapt. They're intelligent."  
"Oh no!" Burt protested, pushing away from the support post. "You're not theorizing that these things are actually able to think!"  
"Well, to a degree," Casey said slowly. "Just think about it, Burt. They've never been seen before, they keep away from humans, but they clean up carcasses, even those on Rosalita's pastures. They come into our territory and scavenge. At night."  
Burt rubbed a hand across his face. "Okay, okay, okay, so we might have a thing out there... several things... that can think, can adapt and can learn not to like us?" He shot Casey a questioning look and she nodded. "Good!" he declared. "The more the merrier! At least they know we mean business."  
"Like I said, Burt, I don't believe they are any danger to us. They are carrion-eaters... like vultures."  
Tyler played with a pen. "So... now what?"  
"You guys keep an eye open and should you ever come across one, I'd appreciate a few pieces, if not the whole carcass."  
Reed chuckled. "All you want for Christmas is a dead Sweeper, doc?"  
Casey smiled. "I know. I'm easy."

They drove back half an hour later and Burt checked on a few of his sensors on the way. He wasn't happy about this new addition to Perfection, but he couldn't do anything about it at the moment either; and the Sweepers had proven to be relatively harmless compared to Shriekers or a Graboid. As mysteries went, it would ensure more tourist traffic, a few more scientists, and cash was never such a bad idea as Jodi often reminded them.  
Everything else had to be seen.

* * *

Within three days, the new truck had new tires, a new paintjob, and Nancy had made Tyler a brand-new hood ornament of El Blanco. He was proud like a new parent of the truck, even though he still couldn't drive it. His right leg wasn't strong enough just yet, but soon. Very soon.  
Burt came by now and then, spending the night at the garage, though like before, nothing really happened between them. Tyler's leg protested sudden moves and so they kept to cuddling and kissing, or the occasional hand job. Tyler never asked about how Burt had come about the truck. When he checked his bank account, he got the next surprise.  
Someone had made a deposit.  
A surprisingly large deposit.  
Tyler shook his head. "That can't be."  
He had been out of business too long to receive money from anywhere, like travel agencies and the like, and never had anyone paid this much in on sum. So...?  
Reed used his online account manager to check on where the money had come from, which was when he got a new shock.  
Department of the Interior. Twitchell's department.  
What the hell...?  
And he found himself calling the man. It was the strangest conversation ever.  
"Don't tell me you get more from your tours than that," Twitchell decided firmly. "That's all there is. Gummer gave me exact numbers and it's what you got, Tyler, so suck it up!"  
"Burt told you to give me the money?"  
"Yes, he did. And if he switched the numbers, your bad luck. I had a hard time explaining to my superiors why a lecture was paid in forms of compensation money and a truck!"  
"Uh, right. Thanks, Twitch."  
Burt had held a lecture and demanded the truck, as well as money Tyler had lost throughout his inability to run the tour? And what kind of lecture were they talking about if Twitchell had to tell his superiors?  
Lost in thought, Tyler almost missed Nancy's calls.  
"You want to come in for some coffee?" she offered, smiling at him.  
"Sure."  
He limped over and settled on the couch, grateful when she pushed a footstool under his bad leg.  
"Thanks."  
"You're welcome. Have you seen the finished model of the Sweeper?" she asked.  
"No."  
Nancy took the palm-sized figurine off the work table and handed it over to her guest. Tyler was surprised how much like his 'vision' the thing looked, right down to the digger-claws and the large eyes and ears.  
"That's really good, Nancy."  
"Thank you. So, how's the new truck running?"  
"Well, fine. At least the engine sounds good. I wasn't able to take it out for a spin just yet." He patted his leg. "Needs more work."  
She gave him an uplifting smile. "It'll be fine soon."  
"Yeah." Tyler thoughtfully studied his mug.  
"Something wrong?"  
He sighed. "You know where he got it from?"  
"The truck? Sure. Las Vegas." The artist shrugged. "He searched the net for a nice model in this area and I think it's perfect."  
"Uh-huh."  
"But...?" she prodded.  
"Twitchell transferred some money into my account, Nancy. I called him. He told me it's compensation for the lost rides since my accident." He shook his head. "And he said Burt asked him to do it."  
Nancy's face was warm and compassionate. "He didn't tell you about the deal he made?"  
"No, he didn't. Never said a word. He just dumped the truck on my doorstep and that was that."  
"And you never asked, right?"  
"Nancy..."  
"Burt made a deal with Twitchell. A lecture he had been asked to give a long time ago and he always refused to hold for the money and the truck."  
"Twitch said as much. But Burt holds survival classes..."  
"And he's the foremost hands-on expert on eliminating Graboids, Shriekers and Assblasters."  
"Yeah, well," Tyler shrugged, "he's written some stuff about it."  
"But he refused to give hands-on demonstrations or talk to anyone smelling even remotely of government." Nancy gave him a pointed look.  
Reed stared at her. "No..."  
"Yes. Burt Gummer jumped over his own shadow and sacrificed a belief. He went to Vegas to talk to some select few government-employed scientists. For two days."  
Tyler started to shake his head. "No way."  
"And he did it for you, Tyler."  
"I don't believe it!"  
"You better do. The evidence is sitting in your bank account and in your garage." Nancy got up and picked up the coffee pot. "More coffee?"  
"I don't believe it," the younger man whispered again as his mug was refilled.  
"You reminded him often enough that your life here was over, that you were running low on money, and that you couldn't afford a new truck," Nancy said calmly.  
"I... I mean... But he didn't have to..." Tyler stammered.  
The blonde woman crouched down in front of him, placing one hand on his knee. "Tyler, sometimes it's not only words that can tell you someone loves you."  
He met her knowing eyes and wondered when he had come to rely on Nancy Sterngood to give him motherly advice as well as firm butt kicks in his relationship with Burt Gummer.  
"Thanks for telling me, Nancy," he said softly.  
She patted his knee. "You're welcome."

* * *

He had come out to the bunker by truck and had regretted the decision halfway along the road. His leg wasn't used to pushing down on the pedal all the time, but he bit through the pain. He had to get back into shape, he had to restart the tour some time soon, but this was a good first trial. The engine was running like a dream, though.  
Well, Tyler thought as he limped from the truck to the bunker, as first trials went, this one hadn't been much of a success, but he could work on it. At least he didn't feel like he had to swallow a bunch of painkillers. Those really went on his nerves by now.  
Walking into the underground habitat, he wasn't surprised to find Burt studying his readings from last night. The older man looked up and smiled. "Tyler."  
"Hey. You busy?"  
"I'm checking El Blanco's movements from last night. He's been hanging around the Northwest end of the Valley lately."  
"Oh. Is that good news or bad?"  
"I don't know yet."  
"Ah."  
"How's the leg?" Burt asking, typing away at his keyboard.  
"Still attached."  
Gummer shot him The Look and Tyler grinned.  
"It's fine. Hurts a bit, but I'm getting back into the saddle. I'm thinking about restarting the tour next week."  
"Good, good." Burt frowned at a particular read-out and muttered something under his breath.  
"Burt?"  
"Hm?"  
Tyler looked at the older man, then got all his courage together, biting back his anger, and asked the question that had been on his mind ever since he had discovered the monetary deposit from the Department of the Interior.  
"Why did you do it?"  
Burt looked up, a frown on his face. "Come again?"  
"Why did you sell yourself? To Twitchell of all people. Again!"  
Gummer pursed his lips, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. Finally he said, "When in a battle and faced with a no win situation, you choose the lesser evil."  
Tyler gaped. "The *lesser* evil? What would have been the worst one?"  
Burt, who had turned back to his read-outs, glanced up once again, his dark eyes more expressive than Reed had ever seen them -- outside the privacy of the bed.  
"Wow, wow, wow!" Tyler exclaimed, holding up his hands. "Lemme get this straight. Holding a lecture in front of a bunch of government science nerds about worms and making a deal with Twitchell - again - to get me out of a tight spot is the lesser evil to what? Doing nothing?"  
"Affirmative."  
Reed groped for words. He couldn't believe it. Burt had done it for him? For him?! Tyler had to sit down, still staring at his lover, who was calmly working on his computer, not the least bit disturbed by what he had just told him -- in oh so little words.  
"That's... I... Damn!" Tyler exclaimed. "Some guys give you flowers. I get a truck. Boy, you must really love me."  
Gummer looked up briefly and twitched a smile. "Affirmative."  
And he made it sound like a military exercise.  
Suddenly Tyler backpedaled mentally. Had he just... Had Burt just... No way! Dark brown eyes briefly met his and he saw  it again.  
Burt loved him. He had said so... in his own way. Tyler pushed up from the chair and limped over to the other man. Turning the swivel chair, he settled over his lover's thighs, then bent down to kiss him. Burt didn't resist and Tyler enjoyed the loving contact.  
"Thank you," he murmured.  
Burt simply smiled and pulled him down into another kiss.

* * *

Tyler did resume the tour the next week and despite the long break, he got customers. The Sweepers insured a steady stream of bookings for the Moonlight Monster Tour, which also meant falling into bed half dead most of the time and sleeping until mid-morning, when the next guests came in. Jodi was happy with the sales, as was Nancy, and Tyler couldn't really complain. He was back in business, even if no one had seen a Sweeper yet. It was like the Loch Ness Monster. People flocked here because they were convinced they would be the first ones to see it -- before all the scientists, who were searching the Valley in grid patterns with their probes. Burt just scoffed at them, but like all of the 'nerds' he hadn't found a specimen either. There had been traces, yes. Now that they knew what they were looking for, they saw tracks, but never a real life Sweeper.  
The truck was running like a dream and Burt hadn't been lying when he had said that the engine was state-of-the-art. It was more powerful than from the wrecked truck, and it was just a year old. Tyler had been polishing it up to prime condition and it was a nice flagship of his business.  
The week before Christmas, things quieted down somewhat and both men finally saw more of each other outside 'official business'. Tyler had really missed his lover, despite the fact that he had had him almost 24/7 when he had been sick. But it wasn't the same. He had been heavily drugged, moody, not very much into close encounters of the sexual kind and, yeah, he had been a real moron at times.

Getting his breathing back under control, Tyler rolled around into Burt's embrace, mourning the loss of his lover's connection to him for a second. Soft lips descended on his and he nipped playfully at them as strong hands caressed his heated body. He snuggled into Burt's arms, feeling at peace with himself and the world. His leg was finally free of pain and the scar was half as ugly as he had feared it would be. Not that he was vain, but it had been scary to see the jagged, red blemish on his skin.  
Fingers ran tenderly over his face, tracing his cheekbone to his temple and down again, and Tyler opened his eyes, smiling at the man looking down at him. No one would believe him that Burt Gummer was such a tender, loving man, who liked to cuddle, hold and just lay together. It went so completely against the tough guy image he projected.  
Burt's eyes were warm, loving, and somewhat serious. Before Reed could say something, a finger was placed onto his lips.  
"You know, I heard you," Gummer said softly.  
"Heard me?" Tyler mumbled around the finger.  
"I heard what you said to me. Before the accident. In this bed. I wasn't asleep."  
Reed frowned. "Burt?"  
"And I love you, too."  
Tyler stared at him. He had known; Burt had confirmed it in his own way, but he had never actually said it.  
"Merry Christmas, Tyler," Burt murmured, then sealed his lips to Reed's.  
Tyler just wrapped his arms around his lover, smiling into the kiss. Those three little words were the best Christmas present he could think of.  
"Merry Christmas," he whispered.


End file.
